By Moonlight
by Masquerading Muse
Summary: For the past 5 years, Bella and Edward have been enjoying a happy ending. But when Edward vanishes, Bella’s forced to call on old and new friends and unwilling help. JxOC BxE
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is not told through Bella's eyes, but through her new next door neighbor, Guinevere, who gets swept into the Cullens' lives. Don't worry all of our favorite people will still be in the story.

**Preface **

We were doomed, as the doors before us closed. The darkness of night crept into the room and the coldness of winter made my bones ache. But for some reason, I didn't feel pain or fear or any of the more normal emotions that come with kidnapping. Instead I felt a strange pang of relief. I no longer had to worry about the threat, about them coming for me.

Edward stood away from me, as still as a statue, his dark, fathomless eyes livid. He was still fighting—he would always fight for her; just as she would do for him. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was formulating some plan of escape. After all he had been here long enough to detect their weaknesses, assess their strengths.

"You have to go back to her Edward. Because if you don't, she'll suffer for all of eternity. I'd only be sad for a hundred years tops." I said, not fighting against the ropes around by arms and legs. "And with these condition probably just a few more days."

"I could never forgive myself, and Bella would regret it. No, there has to be some other way," he muttered.

"But—" I began.

Yet the windows started to shake, and it seemed like the whole building was being torn apart. I could hear windows shattering, people screaming and moaning. Edward's eyes widened, and for the first time I saw his jaw drop.

Then, I heard it. A long, piercing howl that had the hairs on the back of my neck sticking straight up. I had heard it for so many months, but this was the first time I didn't try to drown it out. Amidst all of the din and chaos it was the one sound of hope.

He had come for me.


	2. Walk

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A/N: I'm extremely embarrassed, by the fact that all of my friend's comments were left on here when I posted this last time. So here it is, hopefully glitch free. Please R&R! Thanks!

P.S This chapter is mostly an introduction to Guinevere's life, but stick with me. The ending is important.

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**Walk**

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home, Guinevere?" Roman asked as we stepped out onto his front porch.

We stood in a pool of soft yellow light as snowflakes fell silently down upon our heads and melted in our hair. Cars lined the street in front of his house, their mirrors and windows frosted and white. The moon hung overheard, silver and soft as clouds every so often fluttered across its face. There wasn't a single sound, except for our misty breaths and the muffled voices from his house. It was the most peaceful place I had been all day, especially after being dragged to a dressy casual affair with his blue-blooded family for the past four hours.

"No," I said, taking a deep breath that made my lungs burn. "I'll be okay. I've only done it a hundred times after our late study parties."

I could just picture the look on his mother's face if I had said otherwise. I had seen it all evening. It was the pained, puckered look that came from sucking on lemons, or in her case, a little too much Botox. If he and I had stepped out into the night unsupervised and out of earshot of any upstanding citizen she would've cracked—literally and metaphorically. Mrs. York probably expected me to coerce him into getting extremely high or drunk, despite my current 4.0 average at our small preparatory school.

Regardless, Roman looked out at the darkness worriedly. Between his house and mine there was a wood where streetlamps didn't shine. It was void of civilization.

"Just call me when you get home, alright? And I'll see you at school tomorrow. I'll bring some coffee or something."

I frowned. I wasn't expecting this frigid of a goodbye, even though they had never been overly passionate before. Yet, after a long evening of listening to his uncles discuss my poor stocks and his aunts not so politely suggest some help might be needed in the chest area, I expected some sort of thank you. Not to mention the long and freezing walk home I had to endure. Was that really all he was going to say to me? Why didn't he just shake my hand or give me a high five? That would've been better than simple words.

I was tempted to ask if he really wanted to be my boyfriend, but I didn't want to ruin the entire evening. I was too cowardly to confront him. I didn't even have the guts to make small talk. After all with the name Guinevere, it was destiny that I become the ill-- fated heroine, and I wasn't a frequent visitor to the love department. So I stood there awkwardly, like an idiot, waiting for him to say something.

A raucous laugh sounded from behind the door. It broke the silent spell, and only served as a reminder of his horrid family. I bit back the bile in my throat.

"Well, before I leave, perhaps I could counsel you on your mutual funds?" I asked, after rallying my courage. It wasn't hard to mimic one of his more drunken relatives.

He laughed. It echoed across the white, snow covered yard and resounded in my ears. With a surge of adrenaline I realized how good it felt to make him happy. I would probably be willing to do anything to hear that sound again.

"I was thinking of depositing something that might help with current and future investments," Roman drawled. "It's going to make our portfolio look fantastic."

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could say anything his arms were around my waist. His coat squashed against mine. I couldn't breathe, but his breath was warm and cozy against my cheeks. A blush flowered on his crinkly face, and with the hear emergine on mine, I knew we were matching. It was the moment I had been waiting for all evening, the one thing that would make this whole hellish night worth something.

Roman bent his head closer, and my eyes closed on their own accord.

Then, the door clicked and the Christmas wreath jingled.

"Roman, what are you doing?" Mrs. York demanded. Her face was evening more gruesome in the half light and shadows. Her skin was taut like a mask. "Aunt Margaret wanted to show you some photos and she's getting rather impatient."

We sprang apart. Roman cleared his throat, and I played with the zipper on my parka. I was ready to kill Mrs. York in the most painful way possible. Perhaps a few more chemical peels and concentrated saline would do the job.

"I'll be right in, Mom," Roman replied automatically. "I'm just going to say goodnight to Guinevere."

She shut the door with a snap, and I couldn't hear her high heels clacking down the hardwood floors. She was probably peering out at us through the peephole or through some thin curtain. Most likely she had been spying on us the entire time.

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise," Roman said as he rubbed my gloved hand.

I sighed. No matter how repentant his face was, or how sincere his striking blue eyes, I knew that the moment was gone. And there would be no more moments that night with Mrs. York being only a few inches away.

"Goodnight Roman. I'll see you first period."

I hurriedly trudged out into the few inches of snow that hadn't been shoveled away. Moisture and cold some still seeped into my boots, and I realized that Teddy, the York's Newfoundland, had been chewing on my shoes all night. I had the teeth shaped holes and scuffed toes to prove it. Mrs. York must've tossed them to him like some juicy steak.

It was the most imperfect ending to the most tiresomeboring night of my life. I shouldn't have expected any better.

"'Night," Roman called from the steps. I turned to look at him, hoping to see one more of his smiles. Instead I was graced with a glare from his mother and the door being locked and firmly shut in my face. Fore a few moments I just stood there glaring, until headinged down towards the street.

Walking at night has never frightened me. I live in a neighborhood filled with brick houses and streetlamps that flicker because they run off of real gas. Police cars cruise down the roads every once and awhile and almost all of the neighbors belong to the block watch committee. Mom would worry that some masked villain would steal my Coach purse or Gucci coat, but here in suburbia I'm not the most fashionable or the richest. Those people live a couple developments down. Plus with my horrid driving skills I would've been in more danger had I stepped behind the wheel ofr my Jeep. Mail boxes would've been killed before the first stop sign.

I wanted to try and salvage the rest of my evening. The trees had been turned into glistening arcs from heavy crystalline icicles; their beauty helped slow my heartbeat. Out in the open I could breathe the night air, feel it all the way down to the bottom of my lungs. The constant crunching of snow under toe helped me escape from all of the voices that had zeroed in on all of my imperfections. And when I became surrounded by the darkness of the trees with their familiar presence I could stop thinking about how embarrassed I would be at school tomorrow when everyone quizzed me about how my evening had gone.

I could just see their faces silently appraising me; the other girls deciding whether I was competition or not. I kicked at a snow bank, and stopped when I realized I had heard something other than smashed snow.

I found another set of eyes and jumped. They were beautiful, huge and inky black. A doe stood with me in the forest, her coat thick and velvety. Her ears were turned towards me, every inch of her body trying to sense any imminent danger. I had seen Bambi far too many times as a child, and not thinking, I slowly walked towards her. Dad had worried me about sick or frightened deer, but she looked too delicate, too graceful to cause any mortal damage.

"Oh, I wish I had some food for you," I cooed, feeling my pockets. There was nothing but chap stick and lint. I looked down at the ground, wondering if there were any surviving plants or tree bark that had been stripped away.

When I looked up again, the doe had gone. Vanished entirely. Was that even possible for a deer? Shouldn't I have heard her moving through all of the ice? But it was as silent as a grave.

As I looked closer I found the answer. There was a dark mark in the snow that glistened a faint maroon. Something had gotten her, but what? What could have dragged her away without any marks? I knew that I wasn't so oblivious to not notice a bear or puma marching through the woods, and besides, I thought only cars or hunters killed deer. So not thinking that whatever had preyed upon her could take me, I went to inspect.

And instead of a trail or wounded animal, I found another pair of eyes. They were catlike, a deep amber that flashed in the shadows. They belonged to a face, a mouth that was stained a dripping, cherry red. I had found the doe, but most horrifyingly of all, I had found the woman who had killed her. The woman, who was now devouringing her. My knees buckled. My dinner started to resurface with every suckling sound.

I staggered backwards, and into a tree. My skin burned as it scraped against the rough bark and jagged ice. The woman's head snapped up with realization, and before I could move, before I could even breathe she stood before me. I didn't see her shift. I didn't even see footprints in the snow.

"Please," I tried to say, words failing. "Please."

She seemed to be warring with herself, torn between two decisions with my pleading. But one desire seemed to be so much stronger than the other, and soon her golden eyes were locked on my neck. I gulped, wondering if she could see my veins pulsing or my heart trying to pound out of my ribcage.

"Please," I managed to whisper. "Don't."

Leaning closer, she hovered. I could faintly hear her sniff. I was getting lightheaded, my eyes were shutting closed. I was fainting, fading away too quickly to even try and protect myself. My eyelids were becoming as heavy as lead curtains. Quietly, she shushed me, as if promising that no harm would come.

As the world faded to black, I knew that I would die. There was no one to hear me, and no one would know to come searching for me. Roman would merely think that I had forgotten to call him, and my parents would've gone to bed. They wouldn't know until hours later, when my seat would be empty, when teachers would ask why I wasn't at school so close to midterms.

"Bella!" a voice shouted urgently. "Don't!

I fell to the ground. My head knocked against the tree, and everything had ended. Everything had dissolved into darkness.


End file.
